


child rearing is not a healthy coping mechanism, please go see a therapist.

by mahadevi



Series: sometimes canon isn't what you really wanted so you just gotta do your own thing [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Poor Life Choices, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Silver Soul Spoilers, Takes Place Where The Time Skip Would've Happened, like guys Pls, takagin is not endgame, takasugi deserves the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 01:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21007169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahadevi/pseuds/mahadevi
Summary: After spend decades thinking that their character arc ends with their death, Gintoki and Takasugi try to find closure when they realize that things don’t often go as planned.





	child rearing is not a healthy coping mechanism, please go see a therapist.

Takasugi wakes up in a world of peace.

Well, in a hospital bed, to be more accurate. He’s got tubes in his nose and needles in his arms and an overwhelming sense of agony settling over him like a really shitty weighted blanket. And after opening his eyes, he just lies there for a while. eyes half opened, just breathing. It takes a while for the reality of being alive to fully settle into his head.

It settles like a fog in the early morning. Creeping. Cold. Unwelcome.

Takasugi wakes up in a hospital bed, not alone. There’s his comrades, his friends beside him. Injured and exhausted and dead to the world but alive. But there’s still an absence, still a loss, still a gap that should be filled but the caulk’s run dry. 

Takasugi wakes up in a hospital bed, bandaged and bruised and broken but alive. And outside the window, the world begins to regain its footing. Begins to turn its face skywards. Begins to walk into tomorrow.

Takasugi wakes up in a hospital bed. Takasugi wakes up in a world of peace. Takasugi wakes up, and falls back asleep.

————

Slowly, the energy of the outside world bleeds its way into the hospital.

Or, well, perhaps not. After all, the beds are full of idiots and morons, shackled down by their wounds and slowly going stir crazy. Maybe the outside world had nothing to do with it. Maybe it was just a ticking time bomb set off in surgery.

It certainly seems that way, seeing as how one moment it’s quiet and the next moment it’s not. Down the hall there’s snarking which escalates to bickering which escalates to arguing and then an explosion rocks through the building. There’s the thundering of feet and slamming of doors and the sound of dozens upon dozens of voices, screaming and shouting, all on top of each other, like they’re trying to reach the heavens.

From beside him, Matako snarls, pulling a gun from within her hospital gown. “For god’s sake—“ She spits, storming out into the hall. Takasugi can hear her voice for just a moment, before it’s swallowed by the rest.

Takechi hums sagely. “I supposed someone will have to stop her.” He says, more to himself than anyone, getting to his feet with a groan and limping his way out the door.

Takasugi’s breath hitches. He looks away.

Slowly, almost as an afterthought, Takechi closes the door behind him.

The breath leaves him all in a rush. His shoulders unwind. His fists unclench. But still, the clawing in Takasugi’s chest refuses to subside. 

————

For the most part, he doesn’t get visitors. Matako and Takechi, sure, but they’re less visitors and more staples. But as time goes on he finds them making bonds none of them really expected. Matako likes talking to the other blonde girl. Takechi bonds over a questionable taste in women with the shifty ninja man. They’re both reluctant to leave, but Takasugi pushes them to. Orders them to.

His days are spent mostly in solitude. It’s nice, he decides. Quiet, yes. Lonely, of course. But nice. At least, compared to the days where there’s nothing but screams and sobs. When the room is crowded and fit to burst. When Takasugi is left with only ghosts for company. 

His days are spent with either the friends whose lives he has ruined or the friends who he has yet to kill. During his stay, he gets one visitor that falls into neither category.

Shimura Shinpachi had never made much of an impression on Takasugi, nothing beyond ‘One Of Gintoki’s Children.’ He’s wholly unassuming, mousy looking and meek. But there’s something in his shoulders and in the corners of his eyes this time. He looks older. Calmer. Kinder.

He limps his way through the door and does his best to bow with the crutch still tucked beneath his armpit. “Shinsuke-san.” He says politely.

Takasugi says nothing. To his credit, the boy doesn’t falter. He walks into the room, slowly, painfully, and eases himself into the chair beside the bed. Matako was there just minutes ago. It’s probably still warm.

Takasugi turns to look. The boy offers him a smile. It’s strained and kind of weak, but still earnest and hopeful at the same time. “Am I bothering you?” He asks.

He can’t stop his snort. “It’s too late to be asking that, isn’t it?” Takasugi says wryly. The boy colours, but continues.

“Gin-san says he’s disbanding the Yorozuya.” Now there’s a surprise. Gintoki looked at his kids with nothing short of adoration. Takasugi wonders what could’ve made him give up salvation so simply. In the next breath, the Shimura boy answers him.

“I think he’s gonna try and save your teacher.”

Takasugi stops breathing.

The boy continues, either oblivious or uncaring. “He didn’t tell us outright, of course, because Gin-san probably thinks we’ll stop him. Or he thinks that he’s protecting us. Either way, he’s stupid. But he’s leaving tomorrow, heading out west. He said he’s leaving at dawn, but he’s never woken up earlier than noon so who knows if he’ll stick to that.”

“Why are you telling me this.” Takasugi says, because if he doesn’t then his confusion and desperation will rot him from the inside out. 

And then Shimura smiles, he smiles like it aches and burns. He smiles like he’s sorry, like he’s hopeful, like the world is burning around them when it stands stronger than ever just outside their window. “I wish I knew.” Shimura says, far too wistful for his age. “God, Shinsuke-san, I really wish I knew.”

Takasugi is alone, not long after. The sun sets. The moon, waning, climbs its way into the sky. Its light, pale and thin, filters through the blinds. He inhales. Exhales. Looks down at his hands. Rough. Calloused. Empty. Takasugi makes a fist. Clenches it. Digs his nails into his palm, harder and harder and harder. Until he’s sure that they’ll bleed. Until he’s sure that he’ll bleed. 

His nails, clipped and short, blunt and useless, barely make a dent. Deep in his bones, resolve settles like an anchor hitting the bottom of the ocean.

————

By the time Takasugi makes it to the outskirts of the city, it’s well past dawn. 

He’s sweating, shaking slightly. His joints ache and his head throbs and really he shouldn’t be out of the hospital yet but he shrugs it off and shoulders on. His yukata is sliding off his shoulder, his hands too weak to tie it on properly. His sword hangs limply by his side, for show, more than anything. Takasugi’s more that aware that he’s in no condition to fight.

With a groan that’s equal parts pained and relieved, Takasugi eases himself to the ground, settling between the roots of the tree. The sky is blue. The sun is bright. In the distance, where Edo now lays in ruins, there’s life blossoming in the rubble. People working together to rebuild what once was. People reaching out to one another to offer help in a time of need. People doing what people do best — adapt, survive, and thrive.

Takasugi leans back against the trunk of the tree and closes his eyes. His fingers itch for his pipe. Instead, his fingers drum against his thigh, restless and irritated. It’s not like Takasugi’s impatient. Waiting is a constant in his life, he would go so far to say that he is a master of the art. But still, he finds agitated energy worm it’s way into his nerves, thrumming against the rhythm of his heart, grating against his bones. Takasugi grits his teeth, and wills it away.

Inhale. Exhale. Count backwards from one hundred. Close your eyes and quell your thoughts. Think not of the note left on the pillow. Nor of the shadowed smiles that border the edges of your dreams. Nor of the blood that soaks your sword, your skin, your very fucking _soul._

Inhale. 

Exhale.

Takasugi lies in wait.

————

In the end, Gintoki arrives around sunset.

“Ah.” He says, sounding both shocked and completely unsurprised at the same time. “It’s the shortstack.”

Takasugi looks up and glares. “You're late.” He snaps. Damn it. His plan was civility, but his patience has long since run thin.

“Uh, as far as I’m aware, I’m right on time.” Gintoki snaps back, crossing his arms and leaning back. “And more importantly, I wasn’t aware that I had any plans with you.”

Takasugi shudders as he rises, pain rippling through his body like the remnants of lightning. Gintoki, to his credit, remains wholly unconcerned. “I heard you’re going to save sensei.” Takasugi says as bluntly as possible.

Gintoki’s face slackens in shock then twists in irritation mere moments. “Fuckin’ Pachi…” He grumbles. He sneers at Takasugi, a hand almost instinctively falling to the wooden sword by his side. “So what’re you gonna do? Fall on top of me? You don’t even look like you can hold your own limp dick, let alone your actual sword.”

Sweet Buddha, Takasugi’s regretting this already. And yet, like always, like fucking _always,_ even after a decade of anger and pain, after bruises and betrayal and boundless bitter thoughts banished with bitter alcohol, after the end of the world itself. Even after everything, Takasugi plants himself by Gintoki’s side.

He scoffs. “Consider this a reunion trip of sorts.” He says, endlessly dry and dripping with mirth. Gintoki’s dumbfounded shock is delightful, Takasugi finds. He can’t help but snicker, shaking his head, walking forwards without waiting for an answer. “If you don’t hurry, you’re going to find yourself beaten by an invalid.”

Behind him, Gintoki splutters. “Wait, what? Hold on, what the _fuck?”_ He shouts, scrambling after Takasugi as an endless stream of baffled demands flow from his lips. They walk, bickering and battling, until the sounds of the city have long since faded, until the birthplace of tomorrow is left in the past.

Neither of them look back. They move westward, into the sunset, into a place both uncharted and far too familiar. They walk, like they always have done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so much respect for Sorachi and I loved Gintama through and through, but I just. Wanted Takasugi to be HAPPY. like the ending of gintama is perfect but also Fuck that noise. ty for reading, pls expect slow updates!!!

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter ](https://twitter.com/KAMONORITOSHI)


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